Clandestine Win
by Raven of the Shadows
Summary: He's an enigma people can't make up their minds on. Son of a noble lady and a lowly peasant. But when he smiles, a sweet, charming smile that melts hearts, they decide he is one of them. What a folly!


_Written for Book of Hope. I hope I did justice to your prompts, Lexi._

* * *

 **Clandestine Win**

Light from thousands of candles that lighten up the chamber flickers and dances across his face as he enters. He stands tall, each step measured, graceful, confident. Eyes, curious, calculating, criticising, follow his every movement, but they see only what he wants them to see. A young, handsome lord dressed in finery. Nothing more, and definitely nothing less.

'Scandal,' he hears them say when they think he's not listening. But he sees all, hears all, knows all. He is a Gaunt. A Slytherin. A royalty from a line long thought extinct.

He's an enigma people can't make up their minds on. Son of a noble lady and a lowly peasant. But when he smiles, a sweet, charming smile that melts hearts, they decide he is one of them.

What a folly!

* * *

They invite him to every ball, every gathering. He humours them, accepting each invitation courteously. Some study him from a distance, as if he is a snake poised to attack. These, he decides, are the smartest.

Most, though, are too curious for mere observations to satiate them. He bows courteously whenever they speak to him; when he talks, he is polite, endearing. They are politicians, though, and between the small talks are hidden attempts at unraveling his mysteries and secrets. They are good at it. He is simply better.

He smiles alluringly and evades the questions, each word chosen cautiously. They never even recognise his art of side-stepping and speaking in circles.

Then there are the ones who think of him seemingly mild manner as a weakness. They see him as a prey. They await a chance to sink their claws into him and bind him.

He pities them. They do not know he is a born predator. They do not know he resides at the top of the food chain.

At the while, at these gatherings, he studies them, scrutinises them, hears everything that is passed under their breaths.

In the middle of each night, he stares at the single burning candle in his room. And he plots.

* * *

Before long, he has tags assigned to him. Charming and handsome comes from the young maidens who flutter their lashes at him and blush whenever he stares at them for more than a second. Pathetic, he thinks. Weak and pathetic. Yet, he smiles at each one of them as he brings their hands to his lips every time they throw themselves in his path.

Beyond that, he is known as intelligent. Witty and strong. Courteous and polite. Humble. These are strung together from the persona he presents. They compliment him often, using variations of these tags. He simply bows his head and smiles.

They also call him naive. He is anything but.

In the meantime, well-placed rumors about the King spread through the kingdom like wildfire.

* * *

One winter night, he tears away the seal from the most recent invitation. The Royal Ball, he reads in the yellow flame of the candle, and his lips curl into a predatory smile.

* * *

'Scandal,' he hears them say when he enters the ballroom in the Palace. Three lords never sent their acceptance for the invitation; they didn't turn up. They are to be charged for treason.

Scandal. He decides he loves that word.

He takes in the King, whose control is dwindling, if the absence of the lords is anything to go by. He studies the six Princes, but it is the Princess who his eyes linger on. He follows her when she tries to discreetly slip away. He can't help but laugh when he sees who she meets in the alcove. He can work with this.

Several minutes later, he bows in front of her and plays a chaste kiss on her knuckles. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

He pulls her close then the tune changes and speaks directly into her ear. "A traitorous bitch, aren't you?"

She stiffens but knows better than to create a scene. "What do you want?" she asks.

"Meet me in the square at night." She nods, and he pulls back as the song ends, his smile charming as ever.

* * *

"You are despicable," she tells him. A black bandana is tied over her fiery-red hair, and in the moonlight, her pale face seems chalky-white, the dark circles under her eyes prominent.

He laughs. "I never said otherwise. Love is your weakness; you are my weapon." After all, it is easy to speak the truth. He sees the guilt coursing through her for poisoning her six brothers, and he can't help but smile. "You are too weak. But everything you do is for him, isn't it?"

* * *

"Your Majesty," he bows.

"Tom," the King says with uncharacteristic familiarity. The grief for his sons' death is still visible on his face. "It does my old heart good to know my daughter has chosen well."

He has to hide his smirk.

* * *

The wedding takes place a month later. This time, the royal party is seven lords short, and the pressure is visible in the worry lines on the King's face. But the King's smile when he places his daughter's hand in Tom's is brilliant as the sun.

That night, he allows the Princess to visit her emerald-eyed lover in the cover of darkness.

* * *

He has already won over the King, who is too trustworthy for his own good. It is a fortnight after the wedding that the King invites him for a talk. They stand on the royal balcony with no guards in the vicinity, for the King doesn't trust them.

"Tom," the King says, "People are revolting against us. I feel like everything is finished… I have nothing but you. Remember that."

Tom tells him not to worry. That the matters will be settled soon. As the King turns to leave, Tom draws his sword and buries it in the King's back, piercing the man's heart.

He announces himself as the King's slayer to the kingdom the next morning. The same evening, he is crowned as the new King.

That night, he visits his wife and her lover. The girl is clad in black, but there is hope in her eyes.

"You will be together," he tells the girl, then draws the sword still crusted with the King's blood.

He stands and watches in fascination as deep-red liquid from two gashes spills to the floor, mixing and becoming one. The candlelight reflects from the pool of blood, and his eyes flash crimson.

* * *

 **Word Count:** 1073

 **Prompts used:**

From Library Lovers Event

 _Anna Karenina_ by _Leo Tolstoy_  
• AU: Historical!AU  
• Quote: "Everything is finished… I have nothing but you. Remember that."  
• Word: Scandal


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